


Two Sides to a Legend

by pixelpiano



Series: Elibe Week 2k18 [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 19:30:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13688280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixelpiano/pseuds/pixelpiano
Summary: Eliwood relives the events at the Dragons Gate from some years ago...





	Two Sides to a Legend

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Title: "A Dragon and her Knight"
> 
> For Elibe Week 2018.  
> Prompt: Sacrifice/Selfish (Originally Knight/Dragon)

> * * *
> 
> _Eliwood’s sword burns hot in his hand. The musty smell of ash and smoke fills his nostrils, and he squints his eyes against the burning soot that flies past his face._
> 
> _The dragon towers over him and his friends, it’s mighty roar echoing throughout the cave. He watches as Marcus charges towards the dragon, spear in hand, only to be tossed aside by a flick of the dragon’s tail, and sent flying into a wall near the gate._
> 
> _Lyndis fires a gale of arrows at the dragon, each bouncing harmlessly off of it’s armoured scales. Hector charges at the dragon, the Armads crackling with thunder, and sinks the blade the of the axe into the dragon’s hind leg, causing it to cry out in pain._
> 
> _Spells are flung over Eliwood’s head from behind—blades of wind, piercing light, and scorching vortexes of flame assault the dragon from all sides, and still it endures the beating, retaliating with a scorching breath that leaves everyone it touches within inches of their life._
> 
> _The healers exert every last bit of their energy keeping the others alive. It is only a matter of time before they become too exhausted to continue mending their friend’s grievous wounds…_
> 
> _With a nod of his head and a kick of his heels, Eliwood sends his steed galloping forward. He grips the blazing blade tightly, grimacing as the searing hot metal burns his hand even through his glove. With a cry, he thrusts the sword into the dragon’s chest._
> 
> _The dragon roars as it flails in agony, knocking Eliwood off his horse. His ears ring as he lies scattered on the cold, stone floor, trying to heave himself up, despite the pain searing through his limbs._
> 
> _“Eliwood…”_
> 
> _Eliwood pries his eyes open at the sound of her voice. Wincing against the pain, he looks up just in time to see Ninian’s face crying out in pain._
> 
> _“Eliwood…how…how could…you…”_
> 
> _Ninian’s face sits atop the dragon’s neck, and it writhes in pain as she, the dragon, falls limp to the floor._
> 
> _Scrambling to his feet, each and every bone and muscle in his body begging him to stop, Eliwood runs towards the dragon—now the limp figure of a young girl dressed in dancer’s robes, her aqua hair scattered over the stone floor and hiding her face_
> 
> _“Ninian!!” he cries, swinging his arms and legs as if swimming through molasses._
> 
> _“How…could…you…” Ninian’s voice echoes in his ears. No matter how much he claws towards her body, she seems to grow farther and farther from him._
> 
> _Soon, the ringing in his ears is replaced with laughter, low, throaty, and evil. As Eliwood looks around, he is now surrounded by his old comrades, all slowly approaching him as if floating. Their skin is pale, and their eyes glow a brilliant gold. An icy chill falls over him as they draw closer, and he feels as if the life is being slowly drained from his body._
> 
> _“How could you…” they chant in unison. “You’ve failed us…You’ve failed her…”_
> 
> _Eliwood tries to shield his eyes, but finds his arms pinned at his sides. He tries to scream, but no sound comes from his throat. His knees buckle and give way under him, but he remains kneeling upright, as if a hand holds his head up to watch the horrors unfold in front of him. Though he squeezes his eyes shut, the image of the empty husks of his friends all descending upon him remains as clear as ever._
> 
> _“You failed us…” they chant. “You failed her…You failed everyone…”_
> 
> _“Eliwood…how could you…” Ninian’s disembodied voice cries in agony from beyond the void, as the empty husks of his friends descend upon him and begin tugging at his clothes… “…how could you…Eliwood…Eliwood…”_

* * *

             “Eliwood!!”

             Eliwood jolts awake with a start. His sleep robes are drenched in a cold-sweat, and his breathing comes in ragged gasps. Several shivers run down his spine and through his arms, and his hands are shaking with fear. A kind hand rests on his shoulder, and he slowly turns to see Ninian’s face, very much alive, her crimson eyes glowing softly in the bands of moonlight creeping through the curtains.

             “You were having a nightmare…” she says, softly. “I could feel you were in pain, and you were tossing and turning and clawing at the air…”

             Eliwood swallows a lump in his throat, the darkness of the room slowly lifting as his eyes begin to adjust to the dark.

             “Was it…the same one, again?”

             Eliwood nods solemnly, his breathing becoming steadier and more easy with time. He sits up in bed and turns away from Ninian, letting his legs hang over the edge and bracing his forearms on his knees.

             “I’ll get you a glass of water, love,” Ninian says, making not a sound as she silently crosses the carpeted floors of the castle in her sleep robes and bare feet. Eliwood buries his head in his hands, listening as the sounds of a tap run briefly in the distance.

             Soon, Ninian’s kind hand rests on his shoulder again as another peels a hand from his face and places a cool glass in it. “Drink,” she tells him, “you’ll feel better.”

             Eliwood obeys, taking a long drink and then setting the glass down on his bedside table with a sigh. Ninian wraps her arms around him and plants a soft kiss in his messy, red hair.

             “Do you want to talk about it?” Ninian’s voice is quiet and soothing, like a river in a meadow clearing.

             Eliwood shakes his head. “There’s nothing to talk about…” he croaks.

             Ninian runs a hand across his cheek. “I’m still here, safe and sound you know.”

             He shakes his head again. “How do you know…how do _I_ know…that you’re actually safe with me…”

             Ninian sighs and rests a head on Eliwood’s shoulder, tracing words in draconic script along his thigh. “It wasn’t you who attacked me, you know that. The spirit of Roland guided your hand. He and the others…they saw us…differently,” she trails off.

             “They slaughtered them,” Eliwood’s voice quivers. “My ancestors murdered your people in cold blood…”

             “They did what they thought was right for their people…”

             “They attacked you without mercy, they drove you into hiding, and they rebuilt the continent for themselves…” Eliwood chokes on his sobs, “what if…what if we’re…and what if _I’m_ no better?!…”

             Ninian gets up and kneels in front of her husband. She places a hand on his cheek and lifts his head gingerly so she can look him in the eye. “Of _course,_ you’re better than them,” she says with a kind smile. “You and your friends were so kind to me and my brother, and…” her cheeks grow warm, “you know that being with you has made me the happiest I’ve ever been, my love.”

             She brushes a stray tear from Eliwood’s cheek and leans in to kiss him. Her lips are cool, and taste faintly of ash. When they part, Ninian sees the first hints of a smile growing back on Eliwood’s face.

             “You’ve shown the people of Elibe that we dragons can live alongside humans peacefully,” Ninian says, sitting back down next to Eliwood. She places an arm around him as he leans on her shoulder, and she runs her fingers through his hair. “That is an accomplishment that you should be very proud of,” she says, “I’m certainly proud of you for it.”

             The two sit in silence a while, enjoying each other’s company by the faint light of the stars still shining through the gaps in the window curtains.

             “As long as we’re together, you’ll always be my brave knight you know,” Ninian whispers. “I’ll never forget the day I woke up in your arms after you saved me from the Black Fang in Khathelet. I thought for a moment than Roland himself had saved me—you are the splitting image of him after all,” she chuckles softly.

             Eliwood sighs, and Ninian hurriedly places a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, my love,” she apologizes, “but you and he do share a lot of good qualities, you know. You’re both incredibly brave and kindhearted, and are always putting your friends before yourselves,” she continues. “You both know that true strength comes not from the weapons you wield, but the friends you have fighting beside you. And you both know how to trust your heart to guide you in times of confusion,” she pauses, taking his hand in her own and holding it over his chest.

             “But you also have a lot of qualities that set you apart from him as well,” Ninian starts again, filling the hollow silence of the room. “For one, you’re at least a few heads taller than he was,” she jokes, feeling the slightest chuckle escape from her husband, and smiling herself. “And not only are you able to see the good in _everyone_ , but you’re also able to stand up for yourself when you need to,” she adds, musing. “Sir Roland may have been brave and kind, but he _was_ a bit of a pushover sometimes…Not to mention he was far too reckless for his own good. I never met him myself, of course,” she clarifies, “but the bards in Ilia would sing songs that would drift their way to the mountain occasionally. Apparently, the other warriors spent just as much time dragging their loud, little imp-friend out of danger as they did slaying dragons.”

             Eliwood sits up, still clutching to Ninian’s hand. “It’s weird to hear someone talk about one of the legends in such a way,” he says, “I’ve always heard them portrayed as such grandiose, legendary heroes.” Before Ninian can respond, he continues: “I mean, it makes sense that someone on the…other side of the war wouldn’t necessarily see them as heroes…but it’s also weird, if not slightly amusing, to hear you speak of the founder of Lycia as if he were a simple knave…”

             “But that’s just it, dear,” Ninian says, squeezing Eliwood’s hand. “Your eight legends were just common people until the war brought them together. Sure, they did great things in the eyes of your people, but they were people too, with strengths and flaws—just like you and your friends.”

             Eliwood chuckles softly. “I suppose there are some out there who view us in the same way, huh? Why, I’ll bet a great many people think of Hector as the noble, impregnable wall of Ostia, yet he’ll always be a hot-headed dullard at heart.”

             Ninian chuckles as well. “But that doesn’t make him any less of a hero, or a friend, does it?” she asks.

             “No, I suppose not,” Eliwood responds. “But I _know_ that I can trust him with my life. Can you truly say the same for me, Ninian…?”

             Ninian pulls her husband close and kisses him again. “Since the day I vowed I would no longer hide my love for you, Eliwood, I have continued to place every ounce of my trust in you, my dear.”

             “Your words soothe my heart, love. But…do you truly mean them…?”

             Ninian nods. “Even as I felt the heat of Roland’s blade pierce my heart, I knew that you hadn’t meant to hurt me. I knew that there was no way that you could be so cruel…and I was right,” she adds, planting another kiss on Eliwood’s cheek.

             “But—”

             “You may call me naïve, or stupid, or simple-minded,” Ninian continues, “but I am happiest when I am at your side, my love. And I would endure a thousand more burning wounds if it meant being with you forever,” she says. “That’s the simple truth of it.”

             Eliwood gazes into his wife’s crimson eyes. He hugs her tight and doesn’t let go even as he speaks: “I sometimes forget how lucky I am to be loved by such an amazing woman,” he whispers. “Thank you Ninian. I love you.”

“I love you too, my dear,” she says. “Now, come,” she continues, planting another kiss on her husband’s head, “we both need to get back to bed and get some rest. Perhaps tomorrow if you have some free time amongst your duties, we may take a walk together and enjoy the castle gardens?”

             “Absolutely,” Eliwood nods, sharing a final quick kiss with his wife before climbing back into bed. Soon, her delicate arms wrap around him and hold him close, and the scent of pine and roasted winterberries envelops him. He closes his eyes hesitantly, but the nightmarish flashbacks don’t return.

             Instead he sleeps soundly—and come morning, he is greeted by his lovely wife’s face as the sun peeks through the curtains, ready to begin a new day.


End file.
